


Vengeful Spirits

by Luthienberen



Series: July Writing Prompts 2019 - Watson's Woes [2]
Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Dark, M/M, Mentions of Myth & Folklore, Supernatural Elements, Vampires, Werewolves, incubus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-06-09 12:53:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19476328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luthienberen/pseuds/Luthienberen
Summary: On a return voyage to Britain, the vessel Watson is on is hit by a terrible storm. Unfortunately that is not their only problem. Something on board the vessel is very unhappy and making its displeasure known.





	Vengeful Spirits

**Author's Note:**

> Written for July Writing Prompts at watsons_woes [dreamwidth], Prompt **Day 3 Bloody weather!** : Include some meteorological elements in today's Entry.
> 
> _Inspired by too many readings of Dracula and European werewolf legends/folklore with a smattering of other supernatural legends. I basically threw what I could at this - sorry, I think?_

Lightning lit up the dark skies with a ghoulish purplish blue tint followed rapidly by the tremendous roll of thunder. 

Ears ringing from the afternoise, Watson peered through the dark, clinging to the outside of the port cabin window that fronted his room. 

Water sleeted down from the furious heavens as the Norse God Thor stormed his path across the freezing North Sea.

Drenched in seconds upon his arrival on the deck, Watson had clutched the window in time to prevent his legs from sliding out from under him.

Desperately trying to see, Watson finally saw the First Mate who had begged for help and ran on ahead. Inhaling cold air that shocked his lungs Watson forced his sodden and chilled body to move.

Clinging to ropes Watson manoeuvred his way to the First Mate who pulled him to the cabin housing the wheel by touch and memory alone for all the lamps were either gone or doused by the storm raging around their little ship 

The windows were smashed, shards of deadly glass swimming in the rain deluging them. Then - for a moment - the inky blackness was lit up by lightning. Watson swallowed.

The Captain lay dead, throat torn, eyes fixated with terror. A glance at the First Mate offered a nod, confirming Watson's fears.

A werewolf or a vampire was aboard their vessel and Watson was too weak and fatigued to be able to take on the creature. He was starved from being unable to share his body with Holmes. His nature required constant intimate touch to feed his life force. Yet Holmes had been forced to linger in Gdansk, in the newly freed Poland.

Their sojourn to Eastern Europe, in pursuit of an old enemy - a ghost in the form of the  _ Ripper _ \- had ended with a trip through the deep forests of restored Poland...who teamed with ancient legends, patriotic fever and a looming threat from Russia.

Holmes had naturally naysayed the folklore, despite the fact that Watson was an Incubus let alone that he benefited from the magical side-effects of the potions (and spells) Watson had administered - for medical purposes of course, and only to help alleviate the symptoms of sharing the bed of a creature like Watson, nothing  _ malicious _ .

Still, werewolves were apparently a step too far and upon stumbling a find of wolf fur in a lonely shack, the intrepid detective had dragged them, with other nefarious contents, to the old docks at Gdansk. All this unbeknownst to Watson who would have fiercely argued they ought to remain undisturbed so their owners could claim them.

Alas, he had remained oblivious and when Holmes had been delayed by a message from Mycroft, Watson had sailed ahead unknowingly with the illicit cargo.

All of this left Watson and the First Mate, with a small number of innocents at the mercy of a rightfully angry werewolf, werewolves, or even their cousin the vampire.

Wonderful.

Lightning once more lit up the sky in a jagged tear, ripping the black skies apart while thunder followed with a bellow, as if some monstrous demon was crawling from Hell. 

The First Mate swore and seized the wheel.

“Help me!” his voice was lost to the gale and only Watson’s nature permitted him to hear. Weak as he was, he could still draw upon some of his power. Thus, Watson wiped water from his eyes and grabbed the wheel along with the First Mate.

When he saw Holmes there would be  **words** , whether in this life or the next.

However, Watson was determined to save everyone, especially the First Mate who strove next to him, despite his fears and suspicions of  _ Watson _ . 

Green eyes met his own, wild with the desperate desire for survival and the implacable will to do his damn best.

“Come on demon!” snarled the First Mate, “Or we go to Hell together!”

Watson laughed, muscles aching, hunger an electric current through his taut body, as his frozen fingers strained to haul the wheel to starboard. 

“Hungry!”

A calloused icy hand covered his right and Watson gasped as vibrant furious  _ life  _ slammed into him. Years of practice stayed him from sucking the First Mate dry. Instead he took the willing gift and drew some warmth of that fierce soul, as fierce and unconstrained as that God of Thunder that stormed above and about them.

Enough he took to quell the electric current of hunger humming through him, until his powers sparked and Watson could see through the storm with ease. He pulled free and the First Mate breathed heavily as he recovered, ere he straightened and gripped the wheel even tighter.

Thus fortified, Watson assisted with the wheel while directing the First Mate through the treacherous waters, piercing the black veil of the storm, coloured frequently by frightful indigo.

As the gale howled about them Watson stretched out his senses now that he was capable, to ensure that their vengeful passenger or passengers did not do for them, as they had done for the Captain.


End file.
